Page 27 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

LENA

W e were getting ready to leave this morning when Dani insisted I meet her in Leroy's study. When I stepped into the spacious room lined with bookshelves, desks, and a large fireplace with two armchairs in front of it, Dani strolled up to me, a book clutched to her side.

“Do you know why the Warlocks have hated the Mages?”

I crossed my arms, unsure why we were having this conversation. “Not particularly,” I answered honestly.

“We envied your power. The Mages were always the superior witches—before that term was stained by bigotry.” She held out the thick tome in her hand. My eyes shifted down to the dark and mystifying cover. There was no title.

“I’m not following,” I said with furrowed brows, taking the book in my hand. I flipped through the pages. These were all spells. Warlock spells, many of which were in a language I didn’t recognize.

Dani cocked her head to the side. “We hated each other because we both believed our people to be the strongest. We wished to rule over one another.” Her smile faltered. “The truth is, despite our shapeshifting capabilities, the Mages are far more powerful. Always have been.”

I raised a brow, looking up at her from the archaic pages. “Because of our ability to use magic without the use of incantations?”

Dani gave me a proud grin. “Because of your ability to use both .”

I blinked over and over before finally releasing a scoff. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her cobalt eyes sparkled. “It has been a secret long kept. A myth amongst our people. That the Mages were the original beings created by the Gods—created in Oquerene. The Warlocks, the Sea Nymphs, even the Angels are not as strong.” She studied her manicured nails, her lips pulling to the side. “Half-lives are below us all, in terms of strength, anyway. But it has always been the Mages who had the most power.” Her eyes shifted back to mine. “Us Warlocks have long suspected that the Mages are able to utilize our power, save for the shifting, of course.”

I wasn't sure I was breathing. “Why?”

“If the Mages only believed their power to be that of what innately belonged to them, it kept them less powerful. It kept the playing field level.”

I was silent for many moments, processing this ridiculous information. “Wait…so if this myth is true, you’re saying we can recite spoken spells? Use magic like you?”

“Yes. ”

“Seems like a simple theory to test out…surely we would’ve discovered this revelation years ago if that were true.”

Dani shook her head. “The Warlocks have done well keeping our spells a secret. Not only that, but training is required to use them properly and get the results you desire. Much like your ability to enchant, you may know the recipe of an elixir or potion you wish to make…” She tapped on the side of her head. “But if you don’t know how to make that connection in here, in your body, those words will be nothing but gibberish.” She paused. "The pentagram is heavily used in Warlock magic. I believe the necromancer has somehow managed to learn how to wield our power."

My eyes fell to the grimoire, then back to her. “If the Warlocks have kept this secret for centuries, why tell us now?”

She took the spell book back from me, tucking it into the bag resting on her shoulder. “Mages are the most powerful magical beings on the planet. That dark Mage…that necromancer…he has the power to destroy the entire world. I think that is more than enough reason for our people to put our differences aside and work together to stop him.”

“Yesterday was proof of that,” Leroy added as he ambled into his study, his brows lowered as he spoke to us in a low voice.

I swallowed. I hadn't spoken with Leroy since the battle yesterday…since the death of his wife.

“We have two enemies lusting for power. Two enemies that have no issue ending our people for good. It’s time we test this myth.” Leroy shifted his eyes to his sister. “Dani will be joining you on your journey.”

My eyes widened, then shot to the blue-haired Warlock. “You are? ”

“I am.” She smiled. “I have much to teach you, and considering we're in a crunch for time, this is the best way.” She clasped my shoulder and released a sigh. “I'm going to talk with the Prince.” Then, she turned to Leroy, hesitating for a moment before she charged forward, wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed tightly.

“I'll return soon, brother,” she whispered.

He sniffed but kept his expression strong, aside from the glimmer in his eyes. He hugged her back. “I know you will. Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Dani wiped her eyes as she pulled away, and the two placed their three fingers on their chest before she exited the room.

Leroy's gaze shifted to mine.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.

Leroy nodded, giving me his best attempt at a smile. He then focused his attention on his bookcase, where his fingers trailed various spines. “I need to give you this before you go.”

He withdrew an ancient-looking book, fingers skimming through it as he strode over to me. “You asked me about a phoenix on the night of The Freak Show. Last night, I was going through the book I was telling you about.”

I stepped forward, Leroy fumbling with the pages until he said, “There.” He pointed at the page, and I looked down.

Various animals were listed, with detailed drawings next to each. All had their meanings listed, and I imagined that with how many pages this book possessed, every animal that had ever lived was recorded here.

I read off the ones that had significance. Those of the La'Rune family crest.

Owl: Death

Pelican: Sacrifice

Phoenix: Rebirth

Raven: Prophecy

“Fuck,” I muttered. “I remember the La'Rune family crest depicting a pelican guarding a phoenix and a raven from an owl.”

“Which would make sense,” Leroy continued, “considering the pelican represents sacrifice.”

The wheels in my head began spinning. “So, the pelican wished to protect prophecy and rebirth…”

“From death.” Leroy flipped through the pages for a moment. "I wonder, though, if the crest is really depicting this." He pointed to a bird just a couple of pages forward. To a white raven. “The crest's raven is an outline. Have you ever noticed that? I wonder if that's because it's a white raven instead of a regular one.”

White Raven: Purification

I scratched my head. “I suppose it could be either, but that would make sense.” I thought more about the birds. “Igon’s compass…a pelican is etched into its backside.” My eyes sprang open. “Holy fuck.”

“What?”

“Igon knew he was going to die… sacrifice …”

Leroy scrubbed at his jaw. “But how does that connect to the Otacian crest?”

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “It’s like the more I learn, the more confused I am.”

Leroy laughed softly through his nose. “Nothing can ever be simple, can it?” Closing the book, he handed it over. “Take it with you. Perhaps you'll learn more, and it can help in some way. ”

“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the Warlock text. “Really…thank you for everything. You and your people were nothing but wonderful and accepting.”

“And you and yours were nothing but supportive of ours.” He hesitated for a moment. “Dani doesn't know about you and Silas—that you're Soul-Ties. Only the council and I knew that information.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “That man…that man is deeply in love with you.”

My eyes flared, and I loosened a breath. “What?”

He gave me a half-smile, as much as he could muster with his broken heart. “He came to speak with me after the battle last night, giving me advice after I'd lost Emma. He spoke of you as if you were dead…told me he did you a disservice by becoming the man that he did.”

I bit down on my lip to prevent it from wobbling, my eyes welling with tears.

Leroy's smile fell. “For all the time I knew of Silas La'Rune, I despised him. I saw him as an evil, murderous monster who wanted nothing more than to eliminate our kind. But now that I have experienced what he has, now that I have felt what it's like to have the love of your life ripped away, I understand why he became the man he did. And I forgive him for it.”

Leroy's tearful gaze remained on me as I responded quietly, “I also forgive him for it.”

He smiled gently. “You'd forgive him regardless…because you are in love with him, too.”

A tear slid down my cheek, and as Leroy turned to sit before the fireplace, I departed.

My friends were prepared, and our belongings were packed, new tents gifted by Leroy secured to our rides. But still, there was one thing I had to do before I left.

Say goodbye to Igon.

When I walked back to my group, I asked if Merrick, Viola, and Elowen wanted to come with me. I was surprised that every single one of them, Mage and human alike, wished to pay their respects.

I stood in Forsmont's cemetery, standing before Igon's grave. The site was spacious, but with all the deaths from yesterday, many tearful individuals were surrounding various burial sites.

During the hours I was asleep, recovering from my fire usage after the battle against the Undead puppets, Merrick had a gravestone made for our Supreme.

HERE LIES IGON NATARION.

FRIEND. MENTOR. SUPREME.

It was simple, with no detailed work in the design, as it was made quickly. Just the words.

I covered my mouth, choking on a sob as I took in the freshly piled dirt. My mind flashed with unwanted images: him dying in my arms the first time, and my blade repeatedly puncturing his chest the second.

This man was not related to me by blood, yet he was the closest thing to a father I ever had. He stepped up and took me in as if I was his own.

Five years was not enough time .

Just a few months ago, he was breathing. Smiling. Reading. He was teaching me about magic. He was eating dinner. He was laughing at some joke I had said.

The last moment I had with him before we were attacked was me fucking fighting with him.

It shouldn't have gone this way. He should still be here.

My tearful eyes went to Silas…the one who killed him. Guilt shone in his honey eyes as he took in my brokenness.

My friends said their goodbyes to our leader as I held Silas's gaze. I knew it hurt him to see me like this, which is precisely why he didn't look away.

He believed he deserved every ounce of pain.

Elowen was now weeping profusely just as the Prince said to our group, “May I have a moment with Lena?”

Viola frowned, shaking her head as she and Merrick wandered away, his hand on her back. Elowen couldn't even look at the Prince as she hurried off, Edmund following close behind. Hendry, Roland, and Era looked at him in question, but they left to give us the privacy Silas requested.

After a few moments, it was just us two. I stared at the stone, unwavering, unmoving.

“I'm so sorry, Lena,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I wish I could take it back.”

I let go then, sobbing into my hands.

Our friends were out of eyesight, though there were still people nearby. But it seemed Silas did not care who saw as he rubbed my back gently.

His voice broke as he uttered, “I'm so fucking sorry.”

I dragged my hands away from my face, peeking up at his devastated countenance .

And then I hugged him, enveloping my arms around his waist and burying my face into his chest. He only stiffened for a second before he held me tight, his head tilting down so our cheeks touched. I cried harder.

“I'm sorry, Lena,” he whispered.

“I know,” I wept. “I forgive you.”

He shook his head in protest, the stubble on his cheek brushing against my skin, and I held him tighter.

“You've made it up to me by being here…by helping my people.” I sniffed, then gently leaned back, my head craned up to take in his beautiful, forlorn face.

“I am not deserving of forgiveness,” he voiced quietly, his arms sliding away from me. “But I will try my best to do the right thing now.”

My hands slid from his back to his sides before my right hand went up, stroking his cheek, stroking his scar.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes dilating. “Lena—”

“Deserving or not, you have it from me, Quill.”

I let my hand fall, turning back to face Igon's grave once more before our departure. I fished out the bronze compass, running my finger along the pelican etched into its back.

A memento.

Sacrifice.

Only through fire can the phoenix be reborn from the ashes.

What does this all mean, Igon?